Flying objects
by prdnanny
Summary: She scanned the room looking for something to toss at his huge writer head... a.n.. I published this story a while ago then removed it for reasons that seem so trivial now


They had been fighting for what seemed like hours, but in reality it had been much less. It started at the crime scene, when he had pushed her out of the way of a suspect shooting at her, almost getting himself shot instead, and she'd been quiet ever since.

Barely responding to his attempts at humor during the ride back to the precinct. The elevator ride was silent and she'd moved away from him as soon as the doors closed.

He kept looking over at her waiting for the explosion.

He sat patiently while she filled out her paperwork, barely making eye contact with her. Then the boys showed up making a joke about his acrobatic skills needing work. Turning, he stupidly responded with a line about walking a tightrope, not seeing the glare she threw at him.

She finished the paperwork, shut down her computer then stood gathering her things, bidding the boys goodnight and heading for the elevator. He followed behind her careful not to invade her space.

"Good luck, bro." Ryan said quietly as they passed by.

They made their way home in relative silence. Entering the loft they both hung up their coats. Still ignoring him she headed towards the bedroom.

He let out a long dramatic sigh and followed close on her heels. "Look, Kate I really don't-" he started to say but she turned on him, eyes eerily calm, one finger raised in the air.

Then all hell broke loose.

"You have to stop trying to protect me" she yelled "I'm the cop not you, I'm trained for this. I specifically told you to wait at the end of the alley, but no, you had to follow and almost get yourself killed!"

"Yeah, well you need to start waiting for backup." He yelled back. "Not to mention the fact that I saved your life again!" He muttered under his breath.

She had been pacing back and forth, hands fisting and unfisting at her sides but as the words left his lips he saw her steps falter, her shoulders hunch up before she drew in a deep breath and turned to face him.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mug was still sitting on the table where she had left it earlier that morning. She picked it up, turning ready to throw it at him.

She held the mug tightly her in her hand, her arm trembling from the effort it took not to just toss it at him.

He eyed the mug, then caught the look in her eyes.

If looks could kill, suspects shooting at him would be the least of his worries. He took a step back knocking into his chair before sidestepping it wanting to put some more distance between them.

Confident now, using the chair as a shield, he wiggled his eyebrows. But it was the smirk covering his face that pushed her over the edge. She gave in to her anger and threw the mug, aiming straight for his head.

He squealed like a girl ducking out of the way. Luckily the mug hit the back of the chair and fell harmlessly onto the seat.

She looked around for something else to throw at him. "Why is everything here either too priceless or too sentimental to even consider tossing at your huge writer head?" She groaned.

"Hey, my head is not that big." He replied, sneaking a look out from behind the chair.

She stomped her foot in exasperation, muttering something, her words barely distinguishable while she paced back and forth.

He caught pieces of it.

"Stupid, insufferable, reckless, thoughtless jackass of a manchild."

He peeks out from behind the chair, eyes scoping out any more objects she could use as weapons.

"Of all the men on the planet he's the one I fall in love with."

Seeing nothing, and realizing that her hands were empty of any more projectiles,he ventured out. The chair squeaked as he pulled himself up and she turned quickly, hands on her hips, eyes still blazing.

He met her look, his eyes filled with amusement, a goofy smile lighting up his face, "So?" He said, taking a tentative step around his desk, his eyes sweeping the room just in case he missed something.

His eyes returned to hers, his smile deepening.

"So, So what?" She answered, taking a step in his direction. Her fingers were twitching at her sides and she was suddenly torn between reaching up and smacking that look off his face or grabbing him and kissing him senseless.

Castle reached the other side of his desk, close enough to touch her now. He reached out and tugged on the front of her jeans bringing her body closer to his. She was playing with the button on her shirtsleeve, refusing to look up at him, still resisting the urge to take that tiny step forward.

"Stubborn woman," He muttered, giving her pants another tug, until she was nestled against him. "So" he began again, wrapping his arms around her and sliding his fingers into her back pockets, giving her ass a little squeeze. She was trying to act nonchalant while playing with the buttons on his shirt, but the tiny smile on her face gave her away.

Leaning down he ran his lips over her neck drawing a moan out from deep inside her.  
"So." He tried again, "For the rest of our lives, every time we disagree, this is how it's gonna be?"

She tilted her head to the side, giving him better access, "Yeah, I guess." She sighed, lost to the feeling of his lips on her neck. Then something clicked inside her brain. "Wait. What?" She said attempting to push him back, but his arms tightened around, her pulling her in closer.

"You know, us. Arguing, making up, rest of our lives." He answered, still concentrating on kissing her neck. "Oh, and Beckett?" He continued, moving to run his tongue over the shell of her ear, whispering, "That whole throwing stuff and foot stomping thing? Kinda hot."


End file.
